


In My Time of Dying

by absquatulatess



Series: To Be Human [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Gen, Merle Dixon Lives, One Shot, The Author Regrets Nothing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-16 07:49:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28578528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/absquatulatess/pseuds/absquatulatess
Summary: A delirious and weak Merle Dixon is forced to face the people he long thought to be dead when he's handcuffed while stuck on the department's store roof in Atlanta.
Series: To Be Human [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2093961
Comments: 2
Kudos: 24





	In My Time of Dying

｡･:*:･ﾟ★⋆,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

 **(** _merle dixon_ **)**

**prelude — IN MY TIME OF DYING**

｡･:*:･ﾟ★⋆,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Sitting on that roof and handcuffed to a pipe underneath the hot sun, Merle Dixon was sure he would never see his family again. Even with his drug-induced haze, he was sure of his fate. He’d never see his three beautiful children again. He wouldn’t see his baby brother again.

The end had finally come for Merle Dixon, and he was afraid.

Remorse and regret were clawing at him like one of the dead ones below on the streets. Remorse for what he had lost in his years of living. Regret for what he had become and what he did not.

Merle closed his eyes, going into the depths of his mind to remember his deceased wife’s face. Carina Black had been a work of art and despite his rough upbringing, Merle had given everything to appreciate the beauty of his wife.

But the memory that was replaying in his mind of Carina was replaced by that of the Sergeant he punched two decades ago and in consequence the sixteen months of jail.

Merle felt his lips curl up in a sneer. “You pussy-ass noncom bitch interruptin’ me from seeing my wife. It’s one of the only good things I have left.”

He opened his eyes and his gaze fell immediately to the handcuffs. Merle started to thrash against its hold and cried out for Christ’s mercy.

It had been years since the words he was screaming fell from his lips. Carina hadn’t been a churchgoer (far from it actually) and neither was he. Too many memories attached to the supposed sacred words and buildings. But Merle was desperate and his mind went to the first thing that had brought him comfort when he was a naive and small child. A time when Daryl had yet to be born, his mother still whispered stories in his ear at bedtime, and Will Dixon’s words were not accompanied by the strikes of a belt.

He heard a caw behind him. Merle turned to see that a healthy-looking bird landed on the roof close to him. He hadn’t seen an animal so close to the city since shit hit the fan. The dead ones had made all the birds flee. Animals were smarter than humans in that aspect. Too many of those who could have survived because of their rural location had run directly to Atlanta seeking refuge. He’d been one of them. Stupid.

The crow cawed again, bringing Merle out of his musings. It tilted its head and looked at him with far too intelligent eyes. Merle could imagine if it were human, its eyes would be narrowed and hands on its hips.

Merle snorted at the image that popped up in his head and then asked, “The fuck you want?”

The crow cawed for the third time and flew away, over his head and away from the rooftop. Merle felt anger again and he roared as he jostled the handcuff again. His mind went to Daryl.

Daryl wouldn’t survive a day alone with the city slickers at the camp. They were all clueless about living out in the woods and his baby brother was too impatient to teach them.

Merle needed to go back to the quarry. His throat was starting to hurt from all the screaming he’d been doing. The door behind him had been chained by T-Dog, but it obviously hadn’t done anything because the head of a dead one was chattering its teeth at him.

“What the hell did you do to get yourself chained to that pipe?”

Merle froze at hearing the familiar voice and scowled. “I really must be dying if I’m hearing your voice Atlas.”

“I mean, you do look like it.”

Merle’s breath left him all in one go as his middle child, Atlas, walked into view. Atlas dropped the broom in his left hand and waved his wand over Merle. The handcuffs fell off his bruised and bloodied right wrist.

The crow flew back and Merle glared at it. “Damn bastard crow!”

Atlas chuckled at his father as he crouched down. “Don’t talk to her like that. She’s far from being a bastard.”

“Why should I listen to you? Yer dead.”

Atlas raised a thin eyebrow at Merle and sighed. He glanced behind him and spoke to the crow. “Mallory was right. I’m going to have to prove I’m real.”

Merle automatically thought the worst when he saw Atlas’ face become grim. His son had inherited his personality—better said, his volatile temper. Merle flinched when Atlas brushed beads of sweat off his forehead, and then pinched his cheek.

“That good enough for you, dad?” Atlas gruffly said as he started to rummage through the backpack he put down near his feet. He pulled out bottles and 

Behind Atlas, the crow turned into his eldest daughter. They were alive, healthy, and clean by the looks of their clothing.

At seeing his children, it was like the dam in his mind fractured and broke completely. For the first time in years, Merle Dixon wept openly.

**Author's Note:**

> This idea came to me in a dream and it was too good for me not to write, so I wrote most of it at 7 am in a caffeine driven determination.
> 
> For those who enjoyed reading this, don't worry--this isn't the end ;)


End file.
